Mission To Oz
by ChockaBlock
Summary: COMPLETE Wizard of Oz parody, Archer finds himself learning an important lesson about the burden's of leadership from the oddly familiar inhabitants of the land of Oz.
1. Not In Kansas

Mission to Oz

Summary: Archer finds himself learning an important lesson about the burden's of leadership from the oddly familiar inhabitants of Oz.

Spoilers: Vaguely for Unexpected and Cogenitor.

A/N: It's Easter weekend and as such my thoughts drift to all the old movies the PTB clog the TV schedules with. Actually, The Wizard of Oz is not on this year (although the disturbing Disney sequel is) but I did see the Futurama parody episode yesterday.

Disclaimer: As usual. I still don't own Enterprise but seeing as the big companies don't want it I will play with it to my heart's content, so nyah! I also don't own the Oz books by L. Frank Baum, or the 1939 Judy Garland movie which is sort of mentioned in my fic. No profit is being made, yadda, yadda, this is all for my own peculiar enjoyment.

Part One: Not in Kansas

Doctor Phlox pressed the hypospray into Captain Jonathan Archer's neck and discharged it. Archer sighed gratefully as his headache receded and his sore muscles relaxed.

Sometimes it was so very hard being the captain. The weight of literally the whole world was on his shoulders, after all if _Enterprise_ made a bad impression on a newly contacted species that would be how Earth and all the Humans on it would be perceived. As _Enterprise_ and all her crew were ultimately the captain's responsibility it was something of a burden.

Not that he'd give it up of course. _Enterprise_ was part of his blood and had been since he was a little boy learning about warp theory at the knee of his father. It bothered him occasionally when he wondered if Henry Archer would have been more proud of Starfleet's engineers getting the ship flying or his son for commanding her. It was when such thoughts troubled him that he pushed himself just that little bit harder to be the very best there was.

Take today for instance. He'd headed up the away team to attempt a dramatic rescue of group of Xyrillian scientists who'd been bordered by some distinctly unpleasant Trogdion pirates. He'd had to plan it himself as Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, the Tactical Officer, had put forward a plan that seemed to involve far to much 'wait and see' for his liking. T'Pol, as ever, had failed to grasp the humanitarian aspect of the mission and argued rather forcefully (for a Vulcan) in favour of Reed's plan. Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker, on the other hand, had agreed with Archer. He'd also added a few choice words of wisdom on subject of Xyrillians, being the only member of the crew to meet one face to face before. Archer listened half-interestedly; after all, he was hardly likely to follow in his Chief Engineer's footsteps and get himself impregnated with an alien foetus. Jonathan Archer was not that stupid. Besides they'd gone over in EV suits to avoid the prolonged decompression necessary and if that didn't count as protection, nothing did.

The mission had been successful. Archer, Reed and Tucker, along with a couple of _Enterprise's_ security detail had kicked some serious Trogdion butt, saved the Xyrillians and returned home heroes. Well, sort of. Archer had received a nasty blow to the head when he charged into the fray and had to be half carried back, suffering a concussion.

"All done, Captain," Phlox said as he tidied away his instruments.

Archer stood, a little unsteadily. "Thanks, Doctor."

"Ah, now, where do you think you're going, hm?" Phlox asked, getting in the way of Archer's exit and smiling far too much about it. "You, sir, have a concussion and that means a night here in sickbay under observation."

"But I feel fine! Really, Phlox. And I have plenty of stuff to do, a whole ship to look after..."

"Captain, I have before withstood a two-pronged attack of stubborness, reasoning, veiled threats and - hmm, what was that delightful term? Ah, yes, puppy-dog eyes - from the very persistent Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker. Do you think I won't stand up to you?"

The brief surge of sympathy for Phlox in having to deal with an injured, cranky Malcolm _and_ Trip together was ruthlessly crushed under the general irritation he felt at being kept in sickbay. "I _am_ the captain," he said petulantly.

"Which means absolutely nothing in here. You let me do my job and tomorrow you can go back to yours." Phlox's smile got ridiculously larger as he motioned for Archer to lie back on the biobed. "In the meantime I'm sure the crew can handle running the ship."

Archer wasn't entirely sure about that, he would much rather have overseen it all himself.

"You do trust them, Captain?"

"Of course," Archer replied perfunctorily. "You know you're making me miss movie night," he grumbled, changing tact, even as he lay down and let Phlox cover his long frame with a blanket.

"I wasn't under the impression that you enjoyed movie night. I'm not sure I have ever seen you attend...?"

Archer wriggled a little, trying to get comfortable. "I don't usually, but Trip says that tonight they're playing a classic. I can't remember what it's called now, but everyone seems to have seen it before - except me, that is - and they've all been very excited. I, um, didn't want to miss out."

"Well, if it's an Earth classic I doubt very much that I've seen it. I can set up a monitor here and we can watch it together. How does that sound?"

Archer yawned. Whatever medication Phlox had dosed him with was doing it's job and the warm drowsy feeling was pulling him under. "Sounds good," he said sleepily and relaxed against his pillows as the doctor bustled about fixing up a monitor and cueing the movie to play.

His quarters shook violently and started to spin. Archer bolted to a sitting position in bed, gripping his bedclothes tight enough to make his fingers hurt as the room twisted dizzily. When the initial shock of being woken up in such a manner had dwindled the deep-seated panic kicked in.

The ship was under attack, that was the only explanation.

He released his grip on the sheets and reached for the comm. panel above the bed. "Archer to the bridge." No answer. "Archer to engineering?" Still nothing but the slight static of an open comm. channel. "Archer to anyone?"

Focused on what he was doing he surprised when Porthos barrelled into him, whimpering and pawing at his master in a little Beagle frenzy.

"I don't _know_, boy," Archer said in answer to the obvious but unspoken question. He tried to stand but the room lurched sickeningly and he fell back against the bed, Porthos clutched to his chest.

The almighty crash came as something of a relief after the spinning. Archer was flung from the bunk and landed in an ungainly heap on top of his dog, who scrabbled his way out from under the man and yelped affrontedly a couple of times in Archer's face.

"Sorry," Archer mumbled, picking himself up and straightening his Starfleet issue skivvies. His wardrobe door hung open and he grabbed a fresh uniform off it's hanger and quickly pulled it on. "You seen my boots?" he asked Porthos. The animal failed to reply and merely cocked his head enquiringly. "Well, you're no help."

It seemed pointless to spend time searching for footwear when who knew what was going on outside, so scooping his pet into his arms Archer pressed the door release and stepped out...

...into sunshine.

Confused, he glanced behind him once more and saw his disarrayed quarters, complete with window looking out onto the black vastness of space. But when he looked ahead he saw a bright warm day on an Earth-like plant, although he'd never seen any place on Earth quite so brightly coloured.

The sky was vivid blue and cloudless, the grass of the surrounding hills lush and verdant and the courtyard he'd 'landed' in was paved with shiny yellow flagstones. The squat buildings surrounding the yard were painted in every colour of the rainbow, and a few Archer wasn't sure he'd ever even seen before.

"What the hell?"

Porthos yipped in agreement and squirmed his way out of Archer's arms, leaping to the ground and sniffing everything excitedly.

"This has to be a dream. Has to be..." He pinched at the sensitive skin on the back of his hand: the accepted method of waking yourself from a dream. Nothing happened. "Maybe not...? A hallucination?" Well, if it was a hallucination he'd just have to ride it out, he supposed.

Archer stepped out of his quarters; the sun heated flagstones almost unbearably hot on the soles of his feet. He hopped awkwardly a few times trying to get used to the sensation before spotting a large pair of bright red boots lying just next to the wall of his cabin.

"Strange... but, hey, never look a gift horse..." He went to pick up the boots but found them to be attached to feet; feet that were poking straight out from under the bizarrely landed chunk of _Enterprise_. Archer gagged and turned away, only to find himself face to face with a childlike creature with enormous blue eyes and dazzlingly patterned overalls.

"Maffuse ola, w'atibi uc opidopi," the stranger said, with feeling. Though what that feeling was, Archer couldn't quite make out.

"Huh?"

The creature pointed at the dismembered feet, and bounced up and down as he spoke again, "Uc opidopi lodf. Toko h'yu. Toko!"

"I'm sorry, really, I certainly had no intention of hurting anyone," Archer tried, just in case this strange little man could understand him.

"He's not angry, he's thanking you."

Archer started and looked up at the sound of the familiar voice, "Hoshi?" However the woman hovering above the ground by a good ten centimetres was Hoshi like he'd never seen her before.

Hoshi fluttered her sparkly pink wings and smiled benignly. "I am Hoshi, the Good Witch. That," she pointed a long silver wand at the unfortunate feet, "Was The Wicked Witch of the East. The Munchkin was thanking you for, er, dispatching her. They've been wanting to do that for years."

"Witch? Munchkin? Ensign, what the hell is happening here!"

Tutting, Hoshi flitted forward so that she was nose to nose with Archer and fixed him with a glare. "You aren't listening. I'm not an ensign I'm the Good Witch, okay?"

"Witch, right. Okay. I'm hallucinating that Hoshi's a witch." It didn't feel like a hallucination, but then perhaps that was a feature of hallucinations? Archer hadn't really had that much experience in the area. He decided he would much rather it be a dream, less chance of him being genuinely crazy if it was a dream.

Hoshi was still fluttering angrily, her pretty features twisted into an unnerving scowl. "A Good Witch, buster!"

Archer scrubbed a hand across his face. "Right. Good Witch. Got it."

"Maffuse jse q'op tiki lodf!" The little creature interjected, tugging on the hem of Hoshi's gown and making her list oddly to one side.

"Yes, yes, my dear." She smiled benevolently at him before turning back to Archer. "He says you should take the boots. They're very special, very powerful, and as you defeated The Wicked Witch you should take them. Besides," she leaned in close the captain's left ear and he caught the faint scent of sherbet from her as she whispered, "They're really pretty."

"I don't know..." He grimaced at the thought.

"Toko!"

"Take them!"

"Okay, okay, this is one weirdass dream." Gingerly he eased the boots from their previous owner's stockinged feet and pulled them on his own. They fitted snuggly, instantly comfortable.

"Very good," Hoshi said, floating back in order to get the full effect of Starfleet uniform matched with spangley, ruby coloured boots. "Now is there anything more you wish to ask?"

"Plenty. Like, where am I? And, what's going on? And, how can I stop dreaming and wake up back home?" He watched her hopefully as she reiterated his questions to the Munchkin and waited patiently as the Munchkin replied.

"Well... You're in Muchkin Town, Oz; you're here to help the people of Oz against The Wicked Witch, or so he thinks, judging by your entrance. And as for getting home, he thinks you should probably ask The Wizard."

"Wait, you said that I'd already killed The Wicked Witch?"

"The Wicked Witch of the East, silly. The Wicked Witch of the West is still around and even more frightening. The Munchkin thinks that you're definitely the man to do it, seeing as how you got rid of _her_ so easily. Besides The Wicked Witch of the West will probably try to steal the Ruby Boots right from off your feet. You are the clever, compassionate, brave Captain Archer, aren't you?"

Archer nodded, standing up a little straighter, glowing with pride and trying not to think about boot stealing witches.

"Well, then!"

"And this wizard?"

"Just follow the yellow brick road."

"Follow the yellow brick road?"

"Yes, follow the yellow brick road."

"To go to see The Wizard?"

"The Wonderful Wizard Called Phlox."

Archer shook his head, and pinched the back of his hand again very tightly. "Ouch. Damn, still here."

"Off you go then," Hoshi said, pointing at the start of the road with her wand and shimmering in anticipation. "Oh, and be careful of The Wicked Witch!"

"Won't I need a weapon if I'm to defeat someone?"

"A weapon?" Hoshi laughed, a sound like tiny bells chiming, "You'll have your brain, your heart and your courage, what more do you need?"

But before he could answer she had disappearing leaving only a wisp of smoke behind.

"Well, Porthos, old buddy, looks like we've got a road to follow."

And off they went.


	2. The Scarecrow and Tin Woodsman

Part Two: The Scarecrow and Tin Woodsman

The sun was still blazing, and Archer was still walking, and although Munchkin Town was a long way behind him he still couldn't see anything but countryside up ahead. It felt like he'd been travelling for hours, which was odd, because his dreams weren't usually this boring, and the skin on the back of his hand was an angry red where he'd repeatedly tried to wake himself up.

He was just about ready to sit down on the yellow paving and simply wait out the time until his alarm went off when Porthos, who had been trotting happily alongside him, suddenly shot off along the road barking his little heart out. Archer hurried after him, sprinting over the brow of a small hill and surprised to find that after several kilometres of nothing but fields they'd finally come across some civilisation. Well, a tumble-down old shack surrounded by a tangled of mechanical mess at least.

Jogging down the other side of the hill, he called out, "Hey, is there anyone in there?"

"Who wants to know?" Another familiar voice answered, this time with an unmistakable southern drawl. A few seconds later the familiar voice's owner appeared from around the side of the shack.

Archer couldn't help but grin. "Trip! Man, am I glad to see you!"

"Do I know you, mister?" Trip asked, frowning and running one hand through his already messy blond hair whilst the other scratched absently at his stomach. Archer had to wonder whether this man _did_ know him. The physical attributes and voice certainly matched those of his friend and fellow officer, but the clothes were all wrong; a pair of grubby denim dungarees with a frayed plaid shirt worn open on top and a tatty pair of work boots on his feet, leather scuffed and cracking. And the ensemble was set off with the most vacant expression on his face that Archer had ever seen.

"I'm Jonathan Archer, captain of the starship _Enterprise_"

"Uh huh," Trip said, uncomprehendingly, "Sounds mighty impressive, anyhow. I'm Trip. I fix stuff round here. Kinda. People says I'm not that smart, y'know." He shrugged. "No common sense." He tapped the side of his head with a knuckle and produced a worryingly hollow sound.

"So, what do you mean you 'kinda' fix things?" This man certainly didn't seem to be the real Trip then, the Trip that Archer knew was possibly the smartest man Archer had ever met.

He grinned self-consciously. "Reckon I know how, but Ma 'n' Pa don't want me goin' to town to get parts. Says 'cause I'm not that bright I get into trouble every time and they're tired a'bailing me out." He looked around the small yard. "They left me here. I'm not s'posed to go nowhere. Hey, where you goin'?"

"I'm off to see The Wizard."

"The Wonderful Wizard Called Phlox?" Trip asked. "Wow."

"You've heard of him?"

"Sure! Everybody's heard of him. I used to hope that Ma 'n' Pa would take me to meet him so's he could give me some brains. They said they never knew where he lived though..." Trip trailed off dejectedly, then shrugged again. "Why're you goin'?"

"I was told he could help me get home."

"You know where he is?"

"At the end of the yellow brick road, that's what Hoshi the, er, Good Witch said."

"Huh!" Trip shielded his eyes with his hand as he gazed along the length of the road as it meandered in to the distance. "I always won'ered where that went."

"You want to come with me?"

"Me? I'll just get y'all in trouble, Cap'n." He shook his head.

Archer huffed a sigh. This may not be the Trip he knew but he was a man in need of help, and a marginally better conversationalist that Porthos.

"Come on. We'll go together. I won't let you get into any trouble."

"Really? Oh boy! I'm, gonna get me some brains!"

Trip talked long and loud about engines and their workings as the two men and one dog continued along their journey to find The Wonderful Wizard Called Phlox. Archer was content enough to listen, asking the odd question just to keep the narrative flowing. It was clear that Trip did indeed know an incredible amount about all things mechanical, but every time Archer asked him anything off the subject the answer was either ridiculous or non-forthcoming.

The light was starting to fade by the time they reached the edge of the forest and the travellers still didn't have any clear idea of how much further they were expected to go. Possibly of greater importance though, they were both starting to get very hungry. Trip, naturally, hadn't thought to pack any food, and Archer had been so happy to see a friendly face that he'd failed to suggest it.

"Hey, look!" called Trip, gesturing to small cottage a little way off the road, partially obscured by the trees. "Maybe there'll be food in there...?"

Agreeing, Archer led the way away from the yellow brick road and towards the cottage.

If the last two occurrences of meeting people in this weird land where anything to go by, Archer supposed that the inhabitant of the cottage was likely to be a member of the _Enterprise_ crew also. Therefore, it was not wholly a surprise to see T'Pol striding purposefully in their direction in a dull grey metallic catsuit. It was, however, something of a shock to see her brandishing an axe.

"Trespassers, get off my land immediately, or I shall be forced to injure you."

"Hey now lady, we ain't here to do you no harm!" Trip shouted back. "We just wanna borrow some food off of you, is all."

"Borrow food?" she said, eyebrow arched interrogatively and axe still held tightly in front of her, "Why would I lend you food? I do not know you."

"'S'called bein' friendly. If I had food and you needed some, I'd lend it you."

"But you do not have food, so your argument is irrelevant. It would be illogical to waste my provisions on strangers."

Trip looked as though he was going to argue further when Archer broke in with, "Look, how about if we bartered something?"

T'Pol's chin tilted up slightly as she considered the proposition. "A fair exchange of goods would be acceptable. However, I fail to see anything you have that I could possibly want." In fact she looked faintly disgusted as she regarded the Humans, and rather more disgusted as Porthos started to sniff about her ankles.

"What about services?"

"Such as?"

Archer looked pointedly at the axe she was holding. "We could chop wood." Turning to Trip he continued, "Couldn't we?"

"I guess so, yeah."

"Agreed. You will chop wood for two hours each, and I will provide you with bread and broth in return."

"Two hours!" Trip whined, "Come on now, that ain't what I call fair. Two whole hours? Lady, have a heart!" He stepped forward, getting into her personal space. She shifted her stance fractionally in response but gave no ground.

"Trip..." Archer said, warning clear in his voice. "You remember I said I'd keep you out of trouble? Well, now's one of those times when you're gonna have to listen to me and stand down. Understood?"

"'Kay." Trip said grudgingly. "But she's bein' mean."

"It will be dark soon. You should get started if you wish to eat tonight." T'Pol handed the axe to Archer and led them off to the small clearing around her cottage.

Archer was exhausted. He'd been chopping wood for the best part of an hour, as T'Pol watched serenely from her cottage window. The smell of the broth was enticing, even if it was bland; food was food after all and Archer's stomach was rumbling angrily. What was more, the Vulcan woman hadn't even so much as offered either man a glass of water as they sweated away doing her chore.

Or as Archer sweated, at any rate. Trip had wandered off around the back of the house some time ago and not yet returned. Wiping his brow on the sleeve of his uniform, Archer decided to investigate.

He was met by a large mechanical monstrosity and a grinning engineer. "She had all the right parts just sittin' here. All I had to do was put it all together. Mighty fine, ain't it?"

"What is it?"

"Choppin' machine. Watch this..."

He pressed a large red button on the side of the contraption and stood back. There was a loud whirring, an ominous screeching noise and an almost deafening 'thunk' before the machine started spitting handy, firewood sized chunks of tree into a large basket.

"You just need to put your logs in this section," he indicated the container at the rear of the machine, "And it does all the hard work for you."

"Amazing," said Archer.

"Why have you ceased working?" T'Pol asked, her emotionless voice carrying clearly over the noise of the chopping machine.

"Fixed up your machine instead. Now no one has to chop nothin', this'll do it all."

"This is much more than I asked of you. Why would you help me so?"

"Like I said, it's the friendly thing to do. An' I guess we're kinda neighbours, y'know. You coulda come asked me before, instead of letting all the pieces just sit here, gettin' all rusty."

"This is what you term 'heart'?"

"Yeah. Hey, Cap'n, d'you think The Wizard could help out T'Pol too?"

"I don't see why not, Trip. What do you say, T'Pol? Want to join us?"

"I have long been intrigued by stories of The Wizard and his power. Perhaps it would be beneficial to have 'heart'. I will join you. After we have eaten."


	3. The Cowardly Lion

Part Three: The Cowardly Lion

It was dark when they left T'Pol's cottage, but after some fierce negotiation between her and Archer she had agreed to provide lanterns for the three of them so they could continue their journey without delay. By now Archer was certain that whatever it was that was going on it certainly wasn't any ordinary dream and he'd have to play along with it and meet the illustrious Wizard Called Phlox if he was ever going to get back to the normalcy of being on _Enterprise_.

He had to admit, if only to himself, that he wasn't enjoying their trip through the dark forest though. The lanterns were a help but illuminated very little as the trees grew denser and blocked out what little moonlight there was. Archer held Porthos close, cuddled to his chest as Trip bounded cheerily ahead, unheeding of the dangers and T'Pol hogged the largest, brightest lantern.

With so little to look at, Archer found his sense of hearing sharpened; every creak of a branch in the breeze became a portent of something large and scary coming for them. His own breathing seemed unfeasibly loud and ragged; their footsteps dull and thunderous.

"Hey, guys stop a moment, I hear somethin'!"

Instantly Archer and T'Pol stopped, Archer also holding his breath to keep silent. It took a few moments, but he heard it. Trip was right, there was a noise and it sounded like someone crying. "I hear it."

"I have been aware of the noise for some time. It's coming from directly ahead of us."

"Why didn't you say anything," Archer demanded.

T'Pol replied calmly, "It is irrelevant to our journey. The noise is not threatening."

"Someone could be hurt. Come on, Cap'n, we gotta go help."

Archer chased after the younger man as he launched onward into the darkness, his lantern bobbing wildly as he went, casting eerie shadows. The snuffling noises of someone sobbing got louder until a figure could be seen hunched at the side of the road.

At the same time as the travellers saw the figure, the figure saw them and shuffled back on his bottom into the shadows.

"Don't you come any closer!" a frightened British voice, thick with tears called out of the darkness. "I'm not afraid of you, you know. I'm... I'm... armed and... and... dangerous." There was a vaguely revolting sound of someone blowing their nose, and a few small whimpers. "I'll tear you all to pieces if you come any closer. I will. Honest."

Archer glanced at his two companions. Trip looked confused but was clearly not going to move a step further, for once waiting for Archer to decide how to proceed. T'Pol was managing to look bored without noticeably changing her expression.

"Er, Malcolm, is that you?"

"I didn't tell you my name, how do you know who I am? Answer me, or I'll... come out there and... then you'll be sorry," he finished rather limply.

"Lucky guess? Look, none of us are going to hurt you. Why don't you come out and we can all introduce ourselves...?"

"Yeah, come on out and say hi, you big 'fraidy cat!"

"Trip, I don't think that's helping," muttered Archer.

There was an indignant sniffle from beyond the tree line. "I am not a 'fraidy cat."

"You are cowering and crying, it is a logical assumption that you are indeed scared. If you wish to disprove this theory you will show yourself."

"Come on out, Malcolm," Archer tried again, gentling his voice to sound as unthreatening as possible. "We're all friends here."

"We are not."

"T'Pol, shush up, will ya?"

"Okay," the voice from the dark said, "But stand back, and no sudden movements, alright? Or... I'll have to attack you. And that would be... bad."

There was a brief moment filled with nothing but scuffing, rustling noises and then the figure of Malcolm Reed appeared in the lamplight. Like Archer's other companions, Reed looked like himself but for his clothing. He wore a very smart and well-pressed shiny blue military uniform, only a little dirtied from sitting on the ground, and looked like quite the model officer - if you ignored the puffy eyes and snotty nose.

"_You_ are a soldier in the army of the Dilithium City?" T'Pol asked dubiously.

"Yes, I am. And I'm big and I'm tough, and I could kill you all with a look." He narrowed his eyes and squinted viciously at them.

Trip burst out laughing.

"How dare you mock an officer of His Wonderfulness's army! I should arrest you for treason!" Although Reed made absolutely no move to do any such thing.

"Hold on," Archer said, stepping between the two men and wincing as Reed automatically shied away from him. "You're part of The Wizard's army? You know where he is?"

"Of course I do. The Wizard lives in the centre of the Dilithium City at the end of the yellow brick road. Everyone knows that!"

"I didn't," said Trip, leaning around the side of the captain.

"Then you're an idiot," Reed rejoined.

"Yup. Gonna ask The Wizard for some smarts. T'Pol's gettin' a heart and the cap'n and his doggy want to go home."

"Captain?" Reed squeaked, rearing back further. "We're being invaded! Oh dear, now I really do have to-"

"Kill me? Really, you don't. I'm not invading, I just want to end this madness and get back to my ship." Archer sighed. It had been a very long, very strange day. "Is the Dilithium City close?"

Reed considered this, cleary relieved to change the subject. "It's pretty close, I suppose. We were just outside the city walls when we were attacked and that was at sundown, and then I ran, um, I _marched_ here."

"Attacked?" Archer queried.

"Oh, it was dreadful. Winged monkeys. Enormous, vicious brutes they were; minions of The Wicked Witch of the West. We had intel from Munchkin Town that The Wicked Witch of the East had been assassinated and we were sent on a mission to retrieve the Ruby Boots for His Wonderfulness. The monkeys were no doubt dispatched to stop us." He shuddered. "They are truly horrid, you know."

"So you ran away," asked T'Pol.

"My dear lady, it was a tactical retreat."

"Surely if it were a retreat you would have headed back to the city and not out to the forest?" she countered.

Reed blushed. "It was a fraught situation. You have no idea."

"Never mind that. We have a more pressing concern." Archer adjusted his hold on Porthos so that he could point down to the boots he was wearing. "These monkey things are going to be after me soon enough."

Three sets of eyes stared fixedly on the Ruby Boots.

"That is your problem, not mine."

"Good grief, we're all going to die!"

"They're real pretty though. Shiny."

Archer fought down the urge to scream. As usual he'd have to take control of the situation, the captain always having to do everything. Although he fancied that Porthos at least looked sympathetic.

"We need to get to the city as soon as possible. Give Phlox-"

"The Wonderful Wizard Called Phlox," all three corrected him.

"Whatever. I give him the boots, then The Wicked Witch is his problem, right?"

"Er," Reed started, looking uncomfortable, "I don't think I'll be joining you, actually. I don't think I'm going to be welcome in the city anymore. My retreat wasn't exactly what you'd call sanctioned protocol."

"If he's as wonderful as his publicity people say, I'm sure The Wizard would forgive you," said Archer.

"Perhaps, if you showed appropriate contrition, The Wizard would give you some courage, so you don't feel the need to 'retreat' in future."

"You really think so?" Reed smiled. "That would be awfully nice." He coughed. "Not that I need it though."

They all politely declined to comment.

"Right, let's go." But barely had Archer gone two metres when the sky seemed to fall on them. The air filled with the slapping sound of gigantic wings and the cackling of monkeys laughing. He felt powerful fingers grab at his shoulders, pinching painfully as he was lifted bodily above the yellow brick road. He struggled to get Porthos tucked inside of his uniform as he thrashed wildly in the monster's grip, but all that did was anger the beast. He felt a fist slam into his face and passed out to the sound of his friends screaming.


	4. The Wicked Witch of the West

Part Four: The Wicked Witch of the West

When Archer came round he was sure he was in the safety of his quarters. Then he recalled the bizarre world of Oz and fervently _hoped_ he was in his quarters. That hope, unfortunately, faded as he became aware of his surroundings.

He was standing, his back against a cold stone wall with his arms chained high above his head and his feet chained to the floor. It took a bit of effort but he managed to look down at his feet, surprised to see that he was still wearing those darned boots.

"He's awake," Malcolm's voice said, and Archer turned to the sound to see that to the left of him, at the end of the room was a large barred cage in which Trip, T'Pol and Reed were all being held. He relief was palpable that not only were they all unharmed but that Trip was cradling Porthos in his arms.

"What happened? Why hasn't The Wicked Witch taken the boots?"

"They cannot be removed from a rightful owner," supplied T'Pol, coming to the front of the cage to stand by Reed.

Reed nodded. "So, she's brewing a special potion to help her."

Archer wondered why, if she wanted them so much she didn't simply... but then again he would really prefer to keep his limbs intact so if she hadn't thought of that it would be sensible not to say anything. Instead he tugged at the chains, testing for weaknesses. There were none, he could barely move at all.

"Can you get out of the cage?"

All three shrugged.

"Can you _try_!" Archer growled, exasperated.

Trip frowned at the lock on the cage door. "If I had some tools, I could prob'ly dismantle the lock. But I don't got nothin' on me."

"Oh!" said Reed. "I carry a pocket knife with tools on it." He patted down his uniform, "But The Wicked Witch emptied my pockets whilst I was unconscious."

"You were unconscious too, Malcolm? Are you injured?" Archer could feel a persistent throbbing in his own head and suspected he was sporting an impressive bruise. Reed, however, didn't appear to be injured.

"He fainted," said Trip.

"Tactically, I'm sure," added T'Pol.

Archer's headache was getting worse. He tried to distract himself by scanning the rest of the room. The only door was to room was opposite the cage to Archer's right. Directly opposite his own position was a large window cut into the stone wall, leaving the whole place open to the elements, through which he could see the pink glow of dawn. The only other thing in the room was a workbench, empty except for a small pocket knife and a pistol of some kind. Perfect. It almost looked close enough for one of his companions to reach.

"Can any of you reach Malcolm's knife?" He asked, trying to point at it with his eyebrows.

"We've tried and failed on numerous occasions. It is too far away." She demonstrated by stretching her arm through, between the bars. Even braced against the side of the cage her reach was still a couple of centimetres too short.

Archer sagged back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Y'know, I got an idea..."

"Yes, Trip?" Reed prompted.

"What if we all pulled together on the bars, maybes we could bend 'em enough so as one of us could reach a teeny bit further?"

Archer opened his eyes and stared at them. Trip had a plan?

"Teamwork. Good plan. T'Pol, will you help?" asked Reed.

T'Pol inclined her head in a graceful nod and the three took their places.

"On three," said Reed, sounding considerably more confident and officious than he had previously. "One... Two... Three."

There was a lot of groaning by all concerned but the bar they were working on started to give. Trip whooped in joy as T'Pol reached through the bars and snagged the pocket knife.

Trip, totally at home with something mechanical, made short work of dismantling the lock and with a beautiful creak the cage door swung open.

And so did the main door.

A figure in a long black cloak and broad brimmed pointy hat rushed into the room, oozing menace from her gnarled features. "How dare you try to escape from here," she bellowed in an ugly parody of an old lady's voice. "I'm not finished with you yet!"

Reed, panic evident in every line of his wiry frame, ducked behind Trip and T'Pol.

"Listen Witch!" Archer called, directing her attention from his friends, "It's me you want, not them. Just let them go!"

"Let them go?" She cackled maliciously. "I am The Wicked Witch of the West. I never let _anyone_ go. I'll feed them up with my Drone Potion and they will serve me without a scrap of free will in their pretty little heads. But first... The potion will work on you too. I can order you to give me the boots..." She rubbed her hands together in gleeful anticipation and drank in the sight of the Ruby Boots as though she'd never seen anything more precious. Then, reaching a wizened hand into her billowing robes she pulled out a vial of something the colour of blood and advanced on the restrained captain.

"Hey, you leave him alone, you big ol' hag!" yelled Trip, lurching forward to attack.

The Wicked Witch spun quickly and raised a spindly finger to point at the engineer. Before Archer was able to shout a warning to Trip a bolt of sickly green lightening flashed toward him and would have hit him square in the chest if T'Pol, with her superior Vulcan reflexes, hadn't jumped in the way.

It hit her with enough force to knock her off her feet and back into Trip, carrying them both to the floor in a tangled unconscious heap.

The Wicked Witch chuckled as she returned her attention to Archer, the bottle now uncorked, a stench like death rising from the liquid inside. He tried desperately to pull away from her and her foul concoction, but the chains were far too tight. The best he could do was press his lips shut and turn his head away as she pushed the vial to his mouth with more force than he would have imagined her desiccated body capable of.

"Stop it, and stop it now."

Archer couldn't see, but he knew that voice well enough. Reed's clipped accent, cold and demanding.

The Wicked Witch pulled back slightly, sneering. "The coward finally found his guts, huh? Too late, far too late."

She whirled on him, finger raised to fire more of her magic lightening and Archer wasn't sure he wanted to watch but couldn't drag his eyes away. Reed stood firm, his pistol drawn and held proudly out in front of him even as his nerves caused him to sweat profusely.

He fired.

"Goodbye Witch."

The pistol squirted a steady stream of what looked suspiciously like water at The Wicked Witch and she let out an ear-splitting scream as it impacted.

"Nooooooooo! I'm melting! I'm melting!" And she did. Right into a little puddle on the cold stone floor.

Archer let out a breath he hadn't consciously been holding. "What the hell was in that gun, Malcolm?"

"Standard issue DC-39 Water Pistol, sir. The only thing guaranteed to take down a Wicked Witch. No one's ever got close enough before though. She never leaves her castle and those flying monkeys are scary."

If he'd had the energy, Archer would have laughed.

Meanwhile Reed went to check on Trip and T'Pol. Trip was just coming round, grimacing and rubbing his head where it had impacted on the floor as he'd been forced backwards. Checking T'Pol's pulse and the scorch mark on her torso, Reed addressed Archer, "She doesn't seem to be too badly injured. Probably due to her having different physiology," he added, tugging inquisitively on the tip of one of her ears. He helped Trip to his feet and the two men went to help Archer off the wall.

They were just removing the last of the shackles from his feet when a shadow crossed the window and the first rays of morning were blocked out.

Archer, trying to rub feeling back into his hands was the first one to call out. "Who's there?"

There was the sound of a pneumatic hatch being opened and a figure jumped down out of the shadows. A figure in a uniform like Reed's but with a face just like Travis Mayweather.

"Rescue party, sir. His Wonderfulness has been watching your progress and sent me to bring you the final leg of the journey to meet him. I'll be your pilot, if you'll just follow me..."

Their eyes adjusting to the ambient light level again, they could all make out the vessel hovering outside the window. They couldn't help but smile at each other. Rescue: what a lovely word.

Archer scooped up his tired-out Beagle, while Reed and Trip helped a now conscious but still weakened T'Pol, and they all gladly entered the rescue pod.


	5. The Wizard

Part Five: The Wizard

The flight was a long one, but Archer felt safe and happy sprawled on a very comfortable seat, watching the Oz landscape fly by below them. He'd helped Reed carry out some first aid on T'Pol and she'd claimed to feel considerably better before opting to take a nap. Trip and Reed had soon followed suit and were snoring softly from their respective seats.

Mayweather, glanced over his shoulder from the pilot's chair and grinned at Archer. "Sounds like you guys had quite an adventure today, sir."

"You could say that."

"I wish I'd been there. I always miss out on the fun stuff." He checked the flight controls one last time and swivelled round so he could talk to Archer properly. "Lieutenant Reed will be getting a commendation for bringing down The Wicked Witch of the West. I expect you'll get a reward for taking out The Wicked Witch of the East too. I hope one day I'll be just like you guys."

"All I really want is to get back to _Enterprise_," said Archer. But he thought he probably wouldn't turn down a commendation too.

He didn't recall falling asleep, but when Archer awoke the rescue pod had just touched down and the exit hatch was already open. T'Pol, looking much healthier, offered him a hand getting up which he accepted gratefully as he heaved his tired body to it's ruby coloured feet.

The city, despite the fact that he knew it's name, was still completely unexpected. Every building, every street, every single surface was pale glittering blue as though the whole place had been carved from one gigantic dilithium crystal. Even the people were all wearing the exact same shade, from the honour guard of soldiers dressed the same as Reed and Mayweather to the crowds of men, women and children that had turned out to see the heroes arrive.

Archer was astounded, and Trip's slack-jawed look showed he was pretty amazed too. T'Pol looked fascinated, both eyebrows hiding behind her fringe. Even Reed who'd obviously been there before looked utterly overwhelmed.

"It's magnificent," Archer whispered, awe-struck, as he followed Mayweather down the centre street, blue and white confetti falling all around them and the crowds cheering and whistling with gusto.

"This way sirs, ma'am, The Wizard is expecting you."

The silence in The Wizard's chamber was in such stark contrast to the noise outside that it almost hurt to hear it, and was the first most noticeable thing about the room.

The second most noticeable thing was the sheer size of the place. It was at least twice the size of _Enterprise's_ launchbay, carved entirely from dilithium and polished so it gleamed. At the far end stood an imposing throne.

On that throne sat Phlox.

Archer had known that almost from the start of course, but it was still curiously disappointing.

"Welcome, travellers! Come forward so I may see you more clearly." He stood from his throne, resplendent in silk robes that same perfect shade of blue, and beckoned them forward.

Mayweather stayed where he was, standing at ease by the door as the rest of them, including an unusually timid Porthos came forward together. The Wizard met them in the middle of the chamber, his mouth making an unnaturally wide smile.

"Ah, fine specimens one and all! I've been watching your progress and have been delighted by what I've seen."

"You didn't feel compelled to help us then," said Archer, unable to keep all the bitterness from his voice.

The Wizard's smile faltered and he shook his head. "I'm not here to exert my power over you out there, anymore than you can exert power over me within the city walls. I can, however, reward you for your deeds and leave you in the best possible condition to face the adventures yet to come." He opened his arms wide, as though intending to embrace them all. "Now tell me, what can I do to help?"

Trip coughed and thrust his hands deep into his dungaree pockets. "I was kinda hoping you'd give me some brains, Mister Wizard, sir."

"Brains?" Phlox said, regarding Trip with a puzzled expression. "I can't give you brains!"

Trip's hopeful expression disintegrated and he bowed his head dejectedly. T'Pol reached out and rubbed his arm soothingly.

"Wizard, I wish to have what is referred to as 'heart'. Can you help me?"

"I'm sorry, that too is impossible."

Reed stepped forward, eyes flinty with determination and barely controlled anger. "You said you'd help us! How can you turn them down! Are you going to turn me down?" He marched right up to The Wizard, the leader of his army, and glared at him.

"And what will you ask for, hm?"

"Courage. So that I can serve you better and protect my friends."

"Lieutenant, that is not something I can help you with."

"Why?" Reed pleaded.

The Wizard moved past Reed and stopped facing Archer. "You understand, Captain. Why don't you explain?"

He hadn't understood, not until he'd seen the warmth and compassion in Phlox's eyes, but when he thought about it, it was so obvious he laughed out loud.

"Malcolm, he can't give you courage because you are already brave. You saved us all from The Wicked Witch, even though you were scared of her. T'Pol," he gestured at where she stood, comforting Trip, "You risked your own life to save another's. You _have_ a heart. And Trip, _you_ have a brain; you worked out how to escape from the cage, you just need to trust your own judgement. None of you need The Wizard's help, you already have what you've been looking for."

"Very good, Captain. So, what about you?"

"I want to get back to my ship, my crew."

"But you are with your crew!" The Wizard indicated his three travelling companions, then he waved at Mayweather calling him over and finally clapped his hands three times, sharply. In a small puff of smoke The Good Witch appeared, fluttering lazily just above the ground.

"These people aren't my crew," Archer argued, taking in the odd looking bunch with an expressive gesture of his arms. "They look like them, sort of, but they don't act anything like them."

"Don't they? Hoshi translated the Munchkin language for you. Travis piloted you here."

"Well, yeah, I guess..."

"And yet again you've come to me to patch you up."

"Alright, I suppose so, but those three..." He pointed at Trip, T'Pol and Reed, "Aren't acting at all the same. Trip is not stupid, T'Pol is not heartless and Malcolm is not cowardly."

"As you yourself just said, Captain." Phlox admitted calmly.

"But why have they been portrayed like that? I've _never_ thought of them in those terms."

"Haven't you? Come now, Captain, be honest. You considered Commander Tucker to be foolish in his handling of the Vissian Cogenitor situation, and still tease him about his Xyrillian pregnancy as though it was his own fault, something a more intelligent officer could have avoided."

"That's not -"

The Wizard cut him off. "You continually tell the Sub-commander that her Vulcan logic is inferior to your own Human emotion."

"I don't-"

Phlox tutted, silencing Archer's protests. "And Lieutenant Reed's considered advice on the handling of potentially dangerous situations is sneered at for being overly cautious. Why, were you not just injured after charging into a situation Malcolm advised you against?"

"You really think I'm an arrogant bastard, don't you?"

"Not arrogant," The Wizard said softly. "Perhaps misguided would be a better term, don't you agree? Your crew is exceptionally talented and they work well together. Delegating and trusting in them does not make you a weaker captain; in fact it makes you a stronger one."

"I know that, it's just hard sometimes. I want to be the best."

"You want your father to be proud."

It wasn't a question, but Archer nodded anyway. "I wish he was still around to see all that we've achieved."

"He was always proud of you. You know that. There's really no need to be so tough on yourself."

"Look, I've learnt my lesson. I really would like to go home now. Back to _Enterprise_, back to my crew. My friends," he amended.

"The Ruby Boots will take you."

Archer looked dubiously down at the ostentatious footwear.

"Just click you heels together three times and repeat the phrase 'there's no place like home'."

"Okay. Here goes nothing." He picked up Porthos, took a deep steadying breath, clicked together his heels as instructed and said his line: "There's no place like home."


	6. Back Home

Epilogue: Back Home

"There's no place like home," Archer mumbled groggily.

"Doc!" Trip shouted, waving the Denobulan over to where Archer lay on the biobed. "He's waking up."

"No need to shout, Commander. I'm right here." Phlox hurried over, pushing past Trip and Reed to get to his patient.

"Perhaps we should all give the doctor room to work," suggested T'Pol from the other side of Archer's bed.

Reed nodded. "Yes, we really ought to clear out." But he, like his two superiors, failed to move more than the bare minimum away from their captain.

"There's no place like home," Archer repeated, louder this time, and steadier.

Phlox looked pleased. "Indeed there isn't, Captain. Welcome back."

"Sir?" ventured Reed.

"Malcolm?" Archer opened his eyes, squinting at the bright sickbay lighting. "Guess we're not in Oz anymore."

"Cap'n? You alright?"

Archer shifted his gaze to his best friend, smiling. "Trip?"

"Yeah, it's me. But, you know, the line is 'We're not in Kansas anymore'. Hey, I thought you hadn't seen that movie?"

"Commander, I'm sure the captain is tired, perhaps the movie quiz can wait?" T'Pol said, her tone gentle. She turned back to Archer. "It is good to see you well. I was... concerned."

"Thank you T'Pol."

"You should rest. I'll speak to you in the morning."

She turned to leave, but Archer lifted a weary hand to her arm to gently stay her. "I just want you to know that I do appreciate your opinions and I'll try harder to look at things from a less emotional point of view."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow, and nodded regally. "Thank you. Good night."

As she left, Archer caught Trip and Reed exchanging puzzled looks. "And you two: I trust both of your judgements. Trip, I know your mishaps could've happened to anyone and I trust you as an officer as well as an engineer. Malcolm, I'm sorry I don't always take your advice on security matters. I should know better."

"Er, thanks, Captain."

"Jon," Trip said, leaning in closer to Archer's face, "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"I feel fine. Well, mostly. Anyway I just thought you guys should know."

"Much appreciated, but there are a few things that need my attention in the Armoury. Feel better, sir." Reed mock-ordered as he turned to leave.

"Hey, wait up Malcolm, I'll walk down with you." Trip called out. He turned back to Archer and patted his shoulder. "Rest up, y'hear?"

"I will. Actually, I may take tomorrow to recuperate too. You and T'Pol will be okay running things without me, right?"

"Sure. Take as long as you need. _Enterprise_ is in safe hands. 'Night Cap'n."

Archer relaxed against the bed, yawning cavernously as the two men left together, already bickering quietly with each other. "Doctor, you'll never guess the dream I just had."

"I doubt I could. A pity that you missed the movie you were looking forward to so much. You seemed on the verge of sleep throughout and by the time your visitors arrived you were fast asleep." Phlox frowned. "I shouldn't really have let them in, I am sorry Captain, but they all wanted to see you were doing well."

"It's okay, Phlox. It was nice to see them; especially after that peculiar dream. It was so vivid."

"Hmm, yes. That is one of the side effects of the analgesic I gave you earlier, I'm afraid. I hope your dream wasn't to distressing?"

"It was a little, but I think I needed it." Unable to fight it anymore, Archer left his eyelids drift shut. "Thank you."

It only took seconds for sleep to claim him, so Archer never heard an amused doctor respond, "Well, that's what I'm here for."

The end.


End file.
